"Will it go now?" he inquired of one of the numerous conductors clustered
around.
"Maybe so--in half an hour," replied the conductor, carelessly.
"O," cried the boy, in dismay, "I just can't wait that long!"
"Walk, then!" said the conductor, crossly.
"It's too far," replied the boy, "when you've got a stone toe."
"A what?" ejaculated the conductor; but his voice was lost in the honk!
honk! of a big white touring car which pushed slowly through the crowd.
In front of the car Edward Billings Henry raced limpingly on his stone toe
back to the curb and to the man jingling the coins in his pocket.
"Just what time is it, please?" he asked.
The man pulled out a watch and showed it to him. Edward Billings Henry
heaved a great sigh.
"Half past ten! It'll likely be filled up before I can get there."
"What will be?"
"The place I'm after."
Skilfully he raised the limping foot, laid it across the other leg, and
nursed the stone-bruised big toe, his eyes on the automobile, which had
halted almost in front of him.
"Halloo, Junius!" a voice in the crowd sang out. "Lucky man you, not to
have to depend on street-cars!"
The driver of the car was a young man.
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